


Morning is a Long Way Down

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Charlotte-fic, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will’s losing his mind by the time the car pulls up outside of the hospital, and he throws the car door open and stumbles out, Sloan still a step behind him. She puts a steadying hand on his arm and they make their way into the bright lights of the emergency room.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrap your arms around me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just...sorry. I blame the DayQuil. A special thanks to ehc6j for reading it over for me to make sure it was coherent (and in her defense, she did yell at me). The title is from the song by Josh Ritter, and I'm just very sorry.

He knows something is wrong when Jim appears at the close of the show, his mouth in a grim line.

“What’s happened?” He asks.  

Will hears the words “accident” and “emergency room” and then there’s nothing but white noise between his ears.

He rips the earpiece out, and suddenly Sloan is at his side, her eyes shiny and her mouth turned down.

“Do you know anything?” He asks. He doesn’t go change, he doesn’t even go to get his wallet or his keys, he just sprints to the elevators, Sloan on his heels. He punches the button until the doors slide open and he steps inside.

“Charlotte was conscious,” Sloan reports. “She was talking to the EMT’s and is banged up but okay.” The relief is so consuming that Will sags against the elevator wall.

“And Mac?” Sloan bites back a sob and the bottom falls out of Will’s world.

* * *

Her parents were in town for a couple of weeks.

For the better part of their visit Mac had spent most of the afternoons with them and Charlotte, before heading back into the office for the final rundown meeting and the show, and Will had joined when he could. But it was their last night in town, so Mac had left the show in Jim’s capable hands.

The four had stopped by the studio on their way to dinner, and Charlie, no stranger to her parent’s office, had bolted through the newsroom towards Will’s office, pausing only briefly to slap Neal a high five on her way.

“Daddy!” She had cried cheerfully, throwing open his door. “Granddad bought me a _pony_.” His stunned look had caused his wife to giggle, holding up the stuffed pony that her father had gotten the four-year-old during their visit to FAO Schwartz.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” Will recovered quickly, as Charlie threw herself onto his lap, certain that he would catch her. “Does it have a name?”

“Maximus,” Charlie informed in a voice that clearly implied that her father was an idiot for not already knowing that. Charlie was on a _Tangled_ kick lately, watching the movie so many times that both parents knew it word for word, and every horse from her toys to the merry-go-round to the horses that tugged the carriages through Central Park were named Maximus.

“Right, obviously,” Will caught his wife’s eye and grinned.

“We’re terribly sorry you can’t join us for dinner, Will,” his mother-in-law appeared behind Mac.

“I’ll catch up with you guys after,” Will promised. “What time is your reservation?”

“Seven,” Mac said, glancing down at her watch. “So we really should go.”

“You guys have fun,” Will told them, dropping a kiss on the top of Charlie’s soft hair. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m off the air to see where you are.”

Mac crossed over and gave him a kiss before sweeping Charlie off his lap and into her arms.

“Come on, munchkin, tell Daddy to have a good show,” she instructed and Charlie leaned out of Mac’s arms to give Will a kiss goodbye.

“Don’t let the Senator walk all over you,” she wagged a serious finger at her father, who rolled his eyes. He’s heard those exact words out of Mac’s mouth more times than he can count. Looks like this particular apple fell pretty damn close to the tree.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your mother,” he replied, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s good advice,” Mac chimed in as she set Charlie on the floor and gave her husband a little wave goodbye. Will watched them go with a grin, before shaking his head and getting back to work.

* * *

 She’s not dead.

It takes Sloan a few tries before Will seems to understand, blinking at her with an expressionless gaze.

“She’s in surgery,” Sloan explains. Will can’t think straight. It’s Sloan’s guiding hand at his elbow that gets him from the lobby to the waiting car.

“And her parents? Ted? Helene?” He asks, half afraid of the answer.

“They were in another cab,” Sloan says. “Charlie forgot something at the restaurant. A stuffed animal?”

“A horse,” Will clears his throat, his head swimming. “Maximus.” Sloan nods.

“She and Mac went back to get it, but Mac told her parents to go on ahead,” Sloan’s voice is watery. “Her mother is with Charlie right now. I talked to her dad, and he gave me the update on Mac.”

Will’s losing his mind by the time the car pulls up outside of the hospital, and he throws the car door open and stumbles out, Sloan still a step behind him. She puts a steadying hand on his arm and they make their way into the bright lights of the emergency room. Thank God for Sloan, he thinks, as she steps up to the front desk to find out where both Mac and Charlie are. He didn't think he was capable of forming words at the moment.

Charlie’s still in the emergency room, waiting on the results of a CT scan (“Just a precaution,” Will is told, which makes his racing heart settle down just a little), and they’re lead through a maze of exam rooms towards her.

Charlie is sitting on the bed, looking incredibly tiny and so very afraid under the harsh fluorescents, clutching her grandmother’s hand and Maximus to her chest.

“Look who’s here, darling,” Helene says in a gentle voice, and Charlie glances up, and her bottom lip wobbles.

“Daddy,” she says in a plaintive voice that breaks Will’s heart. He’s by her side in two long strides, and she launches herself at him, her little arms winding around his neck.

“Hi sweetheart,” Will soothes. “I’m here, it’s okay. Are you okay?” He feels her nod in the crook of his neck where she’s buried her face, and he drops his nose in her hair, breathing in the familiar smell of the lilac shampoo that Mac buys for her.

“Mommy,” Charlotte moans. “I want Mommy.” Will closes his eyes for a moment, before pressing a kiss to her head and pulling back slightly so that he can look at her.

“I need to go check on Mommy,” he tells Charlie gently. “I need you to be my big, brave girl. Can you stay here with Grandma and Aunt Sloan while I go check on Mommy?” Charlie looks uncertain, but nods, and he passes her to Sloan, who gathers the little girl into her arms.

“Come find me as soon as they release her,” he instructs, and Helene nods. Seeing Charlie has steadied him, at least a little bit, and he takes a deep breath and leaves the room to find his father-in-law and get some information on his wife.

Will finds Ted slumped into a chair in a surgical waiting room and his heart stops.

“Oh God, no,” Will manages to choke out, and Ted’s head snaps up. “Is she…”

“She’s still in surgery,” Ted reassures quickly. “Charlotte’s okay?” Will runs a tired hand over his face and nods.

“I thought…” he starts and doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. Ted knows exactly how that sentence was going to end, and neither wants to hear it said out loud.

“They came out just a little while ago with an update,” Ted says. “She’s hanging in there.” Will has a million questions on the tip of his tongue. He wants to know exactly what’s wrong, because maybe if he knows what’s wrong he can fix it. And he needs to fix it. Because he can’t fucking do this alone.

But he’s quiet, sinking down into the chair next to his father-in-law wordlessly.

In a minute, he thinks. In a minute he’ll ask Ted just what in the hell happened. For the moment, he lets himself tip his head back against the cool wall and let out a ragged breath.

 


	2. And hold me close to your light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are just the very best. That's really all.

Internal bleeding, Will is told. A lacerated liver and a punctured lung. That’s the worst of it. (There’s also a broken leg and a fractured collarbone, but he’s told that these injuries are secondary. _Secondary_. He’s holding on by a thread and he wants to punch something, _hard_ , but Ted’s calming hand on his shoulder stops him.)

She’s going to be in surgery for a little while longer to try to stem the bleeding and repair her liver and lung, but the doctor uses the words “cautiously optimistic” and Will holds onto them like a lifeline.

He doesn’t understand some of the words being tossed around, but he _needs_ to. He feels as if Mac’s life depends on his knowing all the right medical terminology. He feels like an idiot, nodding without understanding.

“She’s going to be okay, though, right?” Will keeps asking, and the doctor stresses once again that they are trying to control the bleeding and he doesn’t want to make any promises while she’s still in surgery. (And Rational Will understands that, gets that the doctor can’t predict the future, can’t tell Will anything for sure until Mac comes through the surgery, but Rational Will made an exit as soon as Jim appeared in the studio.)

When the doctor leaves, Ted guides Will back to the chair and Will slumps down into it, his head dropping into his hands. He hates the not knowing, the agonizing wait.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been sitting there when Helene appears. Ted stands and his wife steps into his arms, letting out a long sigh. 

“How’s our girl?” She asks and Ted fills her in. Helene nods, listening intently, tilting her head in a way that is painfully reminiscent of MacKenzie (he can’t do this without her, he can’t, he _can’t_. He can’t do any of it. Especially not raise Charlotte alone. It’s Mac who Charlie goes to when she’s upset, it’s Mac who knows what to do when Charlie has a fever, it’s Mac who knows the bedtime routine frontwards and backwards, and Will knows that he’s a _good_ dad, he is, but he can’t do it without his wife.)

“They’re releasing Charlotte,” Helene tells Will gently. “The CT scan came back clear and she’s just a little bruised. They need you to go sign her paperwork and then one of us can take her home.” Will nods, climbing to his weary feet.

“If something…while I’m downstairs, if something…” He can’t finish the thought, and Ted is quick to jump in.

“I’ll come get you right away,” Ted promises. Helene tucks her hand into the crook of Will’s arm and leads him towards the elevators. With his free hand, Will runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I’m not good at waiting,” he admits as they step inside the elevator.

“No one is, dear,” Helene replies. “Not when it’s a matter of such importance.”

“She can’t…”

“She won’t,” Mac’s mother interrupts, her voice firm. “She’s healthy and strong and she’s always been a stubborn thing. She won’t be leaving you and Charlotte behind without a hell of a fight.”

Will is quiet the rest of the ride, and follows behind silently as Helene leads the way to the exam room where Sloan and Charlie are. When he gets there he finds Charlie tucked into Sloan’s side on the bed, the toy horse still tightly in his daughter’s grip. He clears his throat and they both look up, but neither makes any move. He can see that Charlotte is exhausted and still scared, and he feels anger well up inside of him. She shouldn’t have to go through this, and neither should Mac. Mac’s had enough to deal with for one lifetime. Anger is better than uncontrollable fear, so he lets it course through his system, and then it ebbs away and he just feels as tired as his little girl looks.

“Hi Daddy,” Charlie says simply. He steps over and brushes the hair back off of her little face, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Helene leaves to find the nurse to get the paperwork to get Charlie out of there. Getting her home will help, Will thinks. For both her sake and his. He feels torn between sitting upstairs waiting for news on Mac and being here for Charlotte, but if she's safe at home, asleep in bed, at least that's one less thing he has to worry about.

“Hi munchkin, you okay?” He glances down at the stuffed horse in her arms and notices the horse is filthy and there’s a patch of dark red on it’s fur that he recognizes as blood and he swallows hard. Charlie nods, burrowing further into Sloan’s side.

“I want to go home, Daddy,” she requests, her voice small.

“I know, sweetheart, Aunt Sloan is going to take you home,” Will promises. Charlie’s head snaps up and her dark brown eyes ( _Mac_ ’s eyes. _Jesus_. He _can’t._ He just fucking can’t do this without her) meet his.

“I want you and _Mommy_ to take me home,” Charlie says.

“Mommy needs to stay here for a little while, pumpkin,” Will squats down to match Charlie’s height. “And I need to be here in case she needs me.”

“I want to _see_ her,” he recognizes Charlotte’s voice as the one she gets just before a major meltdown (which thank God are pretty rare, but she’s still only four, and of course, _his_ kid, so tantrums are not unheard of. Charlie’s tantrums are rather legendary in the newsroom, and Mac has joked more than once about letting the interns handle Charlie when she’s in full on meltdown mode to see if they’ve got what it takes. “Separate the men from the boys, you know?” Mac suggested).

“You can’t right now, honey,” Will tries to keep his own voice calm and steady. “Aunt Sloan will take you home, okay? And I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Charlotte looks ready to argue, but then deflates, crying silent tears which are somehow worse than her usual tantrums.

“Any news?” Sloan asks quietly, and Will wonders what Sloan knows, what Ted told Sloan about the accident.

The car that hit their cab had run the light and hit Mac’s side of the car. She had taken the brunt of the collision. Both the driver and Charlotte had been able to climb out of the car relatively unscathed, but Mac’s side had been crushed in after the accident.

She was awake and coherent when the EMT’s arrived, and she had been insistent that they call her parents to come stay with Charlie. Ted and Helene weren’t too far ahead of them, and they had turned back immediately, Ted jumping out of the car when the cab driver told him the road was blocked off, and rushing back towards the accident.

Ted had quietly told Will of arriving at the scene, Charlotte screaming and trying to get to MacKenzie, Mac in obvious pain but trying to calm her daughter down as they worked to get her out of the car.

“Stop, I don’t need, I don’t need to hear…” Will had tried, and Ted had shut up immediately, pressing his mouth together in a tight line. Will knew that was cowardly, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of a hurt MacKenzie (oh God, a _dying_ MacKenzie) trying to reassure her hysterical daughter.

Will can't say any of this to Sloan, not in front of Charlie, so instead he just shakes his head.

“Nothing new to report,” he says in a flat voice, and Sloan bites her lip, but nods. “I need you to take Charlie home. Mac’s mother will go with you, but I think she’d rather stay here to wait on news, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Sloan’s reply is immediate. “I can take her home and get her to bed. They should stay here.”

“I’ll call Jim, maybe he can tag in at some point, who knows how long I’ll be here,” Will says wearily.

“I’ll call him,” Sloan cuts in. “Don’t worry about it, Will. We’ll take care of Charlotte, okay? You just take care of Kenz.”

“Thanks, Sloan, I don’t…” He fucking _hates_ this. Hates every second of this. He can’t fix this. He can’t fucking fix any of it.

Sloan doesn’t say anything, and then Helene is back with the nurse and the discharge paperwork. Will signs it quickly, Charlie still clinging to Sloan and to that stupid fucking horse.

“Say goodbye to Daddy, sweetheart,” Sloan says to Charlie gently.

“Bye Daddy,” Charlie wraps her arms around him and he hugs her tiny body to his.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, honey,” Will promises, and Charlie nods, her bottom lip quivering. He brushes a kiss to her forehead before handing her off to Sloan. Charlie wraps her legs around Sloan’s waist and buries her head in Sloan’s shoulder, and Will catches Sloan’s eye as she turns to leave.

“It’ll be okay, Will,” Sloan says, “Kenzie will be okay.”

“Can you do me a favor? Wash that horse, okay? After she’s asleep, just...can you please wash that horse?” It’s something, Will thinks. It’s something they can do. They can wash that goddamn horse so that it’s clean. Fuck, he would buy Charlotte a new horse if he thought he could get away with it.

“Yeah,” Sloan seems to see the horse for the first time, the dried blood (fuck, fuck, fuck, Mac’s blood, and just fuck), and swallows hard, nodding her head. “You’ll call? If there’s news?”

“Of course,” Will replies, and he gives the side of his daughter’s head one more kiss before watching as Sloan carries her out of the room.


	3. I'm too weak for flying tonight

Jim arrives almost as soon as Sloan leaves to take Charlotte home, Maggie on his heels.

“We told everyone what’s happening,” Jim explains. Will hadn’t even spared a single thought about the fact the staff had to be wondering why Will had flown out of the studio as soon as the show wrapped. He hadn't had any room leftover to worry about the staff. Not with the overwhelming and stifling panic in his brain at the moment. “They all wanted to come down, but we told them to hang tight and we’d let them know when we had an update.”

“We figured the last thing you needed was for the whole newsroom to descend down upon this place,” Maggie chimes in softly. Will nods, and Jim takes a seat next to Mac’s mother, who wraps an arm around his shoulder and murmurs,

“Hello, James.” Will had almost forgotten that they’ve done this before, Jim and Mac’s parents. They’re old pros. They’ve been here before, sitting in hard, plastic chairs and waiting while the doctors try to piece Mac back together again.

Maggie takes the empty seat next to Will, and reaches over to give his hand a squeeze.

“She’s the strongest person I know,” Maggie says, her voice quiet but hard. “She’ll be okay.” Will doesn't know what to say to that, because Mac _is_ strong, but what if that's not enough? Instead of answering, Will shuts his eyes, tipping back his head to rest against the wall, and Maggie, bless her intuitive soul, doesn't say anything else, just gives his hand another squeeze.

They sit in silence, for the most part, time ticking by painfully slowly.

Sloan calls Will to let him know that Charlotte’s asleep in bed, and he thought that maybe knowing Charlie was taken care of would calm some of his nerves, but he finds instead that it just makes him more anxious. He has nothing to focus on but his wife, and he doesn’t know a goddamn thing that’s happening with her.

Maggie abruptly stands on hour two, and the rest of them glance up at her startled.

“I need to feel useful,” she says, and God does Will know the feeling. “Can I get anyone coffee?”

“I’ll go with you,” Jim replies, placing a hand on the small of his girlfriend’s back. “Will? Coffee?” Will waves away the offer. There’s no way that he could choke down anything, not with the tight ball in the pit of his stomach that will not loosen until the doctor comes out to tell them that MacKenzie is okay. He certainly doesn’t need anything to help him stay awake, either. He’s wide fucking awake, on full alert, and he’s bracing himself for bad news (because that’s what he does. That’s who he is. And he’s been so happy for so long that there has to be a trade-off. That’s how it works. There’s always a trade-off. But Mac’s too big a price to pay. And it’s not fair to Charlotte. It’s _not_. It’s just not fucking fair).

“Why aren’t they coming out to let us know what’s happening?” Will grumbles, running a frustrated hand over his face. “They should be letting us know what’s fucking going on.” His mother-in-law places a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sure they will soon,” she says in a calm voice. Mac’s parents are holding it together much better than he is, which is unsurprising. For as long as he’s known them, they’ve always been steady in a crisis, the picture of the British stiff upper lip. He feels himself unraveling, and he’s trying to pull his ends back together, but he’s failing miserably (it’s the image of his daughter screaming for his wife, and his wife, his brave, beautiful wife, gritting her teeth through the pain to calm Charlotte down even as she must have been in so much pain and so fucking terrified. He can’t let himself think about it too long, if he lets himself think about it he won’t be able to function, and he has to still function. It’s not about him anymore, it’s about Charlotte, and she needs for him to be okay).

Will crosses his arms in front of his chest and lets his head fall heavy in front of him. No one speaks again until Maggie and Jim return, handing the McHales their coffees and settling back down into the uncomfortable chairs.

“Mr. McAvoy?” At the sound of his name, Will’s head snaps up, and he’s on his feet in an instant, his body tense and trembling.

“Yes? Mac? Is my wife…” Helene places a steady hand on his back, Maggie on his other side, her grip on his arm just shy of painful.

“She made it through the surgery, and is holding her own,” the doctor tells Will and he feels dizzy with relief. Will feels Helene sag next to him, and knows that he’s not the only one who was fearing the absolute worst. The doctor keeps talking, things Will _knows_ that he should be listening to, but he can’t focus on anything but the single fact that MacKenzie is still here, with them, with _him_.

“Can I see her? I’d like to see her.”

“She’s in recovery now, and once we get her settled in the ICU we’ll come to get you.” Maggie lets go of Will, stepping into Jim’s arms and Will hears her say softly,

"See? I told you, it’s _Mac_ , she’s okay.” And she _is_ , or she will be. And he knows it’s still going to be hard. She has a broken leg and a broken clavicle; not to mention a four-year-old that never stops moving and a pretty stressful and demanding job. And she’s going to bitch and whine and be the worst fucking patient ever, but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. She’s going to be okay. That’s it. That’s all that matters.

* * *

It’s late when the nurse comes to get him to take him to the surgical ICU where Mac is.

Jim and Maggie are still there, half asleep in chairs, propped up against each other, but Helene and Ted went back to the apartment to give Sloan a break and check on Charlotte.

Visitor hours are 24 hours in the ICU and luckily MacKenzie has a private room so there’s no time limit as to how long he can stay (which is good, because he doesn’t plan on going anywhere). There’s already a chair pulled up beside her bed, and he sinks into it, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his mouth to brush a kiss along her fingers.

“Hey honey,” Will says, his voice cracking. “You’re going to be just fine, okay? And Charlotte’s fine. She’s _fine_ , Mac. So don’t worry about her. Don’t worry about anything but you.”

He swallows hard, but he feels like he can breathe for the first time since Jim appeared in the studio. Will knows that he should go let Jim and Maggie take a turn seeing her; after all, they’ve been waiting with him for hours, but he’s a selfish bastard and he can’t bring himself to leave her side just yet.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he repeats. “Just fine.”


	4. I've been running all nighttime

“I want my mommy,” Will can hear Charlie screaming as he lets himself into the apartment.

He was finally dragged from MacKenzie’s bedside by the combined argumentative powers of Jim and Sloan, who pointed out that Mac would be sedated for hours still and that Charlotte, while physically fine, had woken up hysterical. No amount of soothing and cajoling from either of her grandparents was able to calm her down, and Will knew that while he was a poor substitute for Mac, he was _something_ at least.

His heart breaks when he gets his first glimpse of his little girl, her face bright red and her whole body quivering.

“Look, sweetheart, Daddy’s home,” Helene coos, brushing Charlie’s hair from her face.

“I want Mommy,” Charlie cries, sliding bonelessly from the couch onto the floor. Will can’t blame her; he wants MacKenzie too, but he squares his shoulders and kneels down next to his daughter, placing a calming hand on her little back.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs. “I know.” Charlie turns and throws herself into his arms, and he just has time to balance himself before they both topple over. “Mommy has to stay at the hospital for a little while, okay?” Thank God, he thinks, thank God, thank God, _thank God_ that he doesn’t have to face Charlotte and tell her that her mother isn’t coming home.

Will climbs carefully to his feet, ignoring his groaning knees, as Charlie clings to him with a fierce determination, and he hates that sitting by Mac’s bedside meant Charlie had to wake up here without him.

“We’re fine here,” Will tells his in-laws. “Go on to the hospital.” Maggie had been sent home an hour or so before him in order to get some sleep so that she could come watch Charlotte for him so that he could get some sleep himself. That was the plan, at least, and though he had agreed to it on the surface (it had, at the time, seemed easier to just agree than face Sloan’s wrath), he was planning on hightailing it back to the hospital just as he was able.

But now that he was here, with Charlotte’s trembling body in his arms, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He desperately wanted to be with MacKenzie, but also knew that his daughter needed him and if Mac was awake she would be absolutely insistent on his staying at home with Charlie. (And he still can’t get the image of the flashing lights, Mac’s pale face, the crushed cab, Charlotte’s shrill cries out of his head. He hopes, _hopes_ , that it’s not something that haunts Charlie. He hopes that she’s too little to remember last night. But has a sinking feeling that she’ll remember every detail. The sound of Mac’s strained voice, the feel of the biting, cold air, the weight of the blanket they wrapped around her tiny shoulders, her grandfather arriving, out of breath and panicked, crushing her body to his. He would do anything, _give_ anything, to have her not remember that. To take back those hours. To fix this.)

“Daddy,” Charlie whimpers, rubbing her eyes with a small fist. “I want to see Mommy.” The hospital has pretty strict rules about visitors under the age of 12 in the ICU, and even if they didn’t, the last thing Will would want to do is heap more trauma onto Charlie. And seeing MacKenzie in that hospital bed, intubated and so very still and pale, had been traumatic enough for Will. He wasn’t about to bring Charlie there to see her mother like that.

“I know, pumpkin, but you can’t right now,” he tries to use his most reassuring, most reasonable voice. “Mommy has to rest for a little while and then we’ll go see her. It’s like when she goes away for work for a few days. We have fun those days, don’t we? And everyone wants to come see you and play with you. Aunt Maggie’s going to come by in a little bit to play with you, and then Aunt Sloan and Uncle Don will be here later, and maybe even Grandma Leona.” (Leona had arrived at the hospital some time after Mac had gotten out of surgery, threatening to pull funding and demanding the best doctors and specialists. As if money and money alone could be enough to save MacKenzie).

“When will she be home?” Charlie asks, her voice small.

“Soon, sweetheart,” he runs a hand over the back of her head, and she buries her face in his neck. “As soon as she can.” Oh God, he thinks, please let it be soon.

* * *

 Sloan only feels slightly badly about kicking Jim out of Mac’s room. One visitor at a time in the ICU is the rule, and she wants to get in before Mac’s parents get back to the hospital.

Last night had been...rough. Charlie had been too exhausted to fight going to sleep, although she had asked for her mother several times, but she had woken up screaming a few hours later, Sloan rushing to her bedroom.

Charlotte had been inconsolable, crawling into Sloan’s lap and repeating, “Mommy, Daddy, Mommy,” over and over again until she had exhausted herself back into sleep.

From what she had heard, the morning had not gone any smoother with her grandparents there, causing Will to look even more on edge (If that was even possible. Sloan had never seen him so rigid with fear, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, and that was even _after_ multiple assurances that it was just a matter of time before MacKenzie woke up, and that she had a long recovery ahead of her, but she should be just fine).

Finally she and Jim had ganged up on him, convincing him that there was nothing that could done at the hospital, and that Will should take the opportunity while Mac was still sedated to go check on Charlotte. Will looked so lost, worry etched into his forehead, his mouth turned down, that Sloan had gotten firm with him.

“Go home, Will. Go check on your daughter. Mac would want you to take care of Charlotte first, you know that,” she had insisted, and that had finally been enough to catapult him into action. She only felt slightly guilty about the tough love, knowing that she had been right; Mac would insist that he go take care of their daughter before her.  Sloan had heard from Ted about Mac being awake when they pulled her out of the car, about Charlie screaming for her mother. He had still been so shaken when he called Sloan. Helene had been with Charlie in the emergency room, Mac had already been whisked away to surgery, and Ted had called to have someone let Will know as soon as he had gotten the chance. It was a phone conversation that Sloan wouldn’t forget any time soon.

“There’s been an accident,” Ted McHale’s clipped accent had informed her, but then his voice broke, “MacKenzie and Charlotte. Someone needs to tell Will. Someone needs to tell him straight away.”

“Are they okay? What’s happened?” Sloan had sunk down into her office chair where she had been going over a segment with Don. Will was still on the air, and she wondered if she would have to go pull him off. Don raised an eyebrow in her direction, starting to ask her what was wrong, but she waved him away.

“Charlotte’s fine,” Ted assured. “She was talking to the EMT’s, and she seems shaken, but fine.”

“And Mac? Mac?”

“We don’t know, we just don’t know,” Ted replied. “She’s in surgery. She was awake...they had to get her out of the car, and Charlotte was screaming for her. They were behind us. I bought Charlie this toy today, and she’s rather fond of it. She left it at the restaurant and Mackie went back to get it, told us to go ahead, she would meet us at the apartment. She was awake after the accident, she told the EMT’s to call us. I...ran back, I could hear Charlotte screaming.”  There was a long pause. Sloan brought a shaking hand to her mouth, and closed her eyes. “Charlotte’s fine. She’s fine. Tell Will that she’s fine. But Mac...we just don’t know.”

“How bad was...how bad?” Sloan asked, swallowing hard.

“It’s best if Will gets down here as fast as he can,” was Ted’s response.

Sloan shakes the thoughts out of her head, picking up Mac’s hand and intertwining their fingers. She is slightly surprised to find that she’s crying, a large lump in her throat. It’s silly to cry _now_ , Sloan thinks. Now that the worst part is over. _Get it together, Sabbith_ , she tells herself. Mac’s going to be fine.

“You’re going to be fine,” Sloan says out loud to Mac’s still form. “And since you have a broken leg, we’ll get you a little bell, you know? So that Will can wait on your hand and foot.” Sloan gives Mac’s hand a squeeze, clearing her throat and wiping at her wet cheeks, and then rests her head on MacKenzie’s bed, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and her shoulders heave.


	5. Trying to hide from the hounds

Maggie arrives with her arms full of food, and Jim right behind her, holding a bag full of games.

“What’s all this?” Will asks.

“We figured you hadn’t eaten in ages, and all of this,” she gestures to the stuff Jim is holding. “Is to keep Charlie occupied and distracted.”

“I’m not hungry,” Will says automatically, and he isn’t. He can’t imagine trying to choke down food, and is relieved when Maggie gives him a skeptical look but doesn’t push any farther.

"You should go get some sleep,” Jim says. “We can take of Charlie.”

“I’m not tired,” his response is once again automatic. He’s not tired (but he _is_ exhausted. Physically, mentally, he’s just fucking exhausted. And all he wants to do is crawl into his bed with his wife. But Mac’s not here. And the idea of crawling into the bed alone is excruciating.)

“You haven’t slept in over 24 hours,” Maggie argues. “Mac’s not waking up for a little while, and we’ve got Charlie covered. Go get a few hours of sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this.” He’s gone longer without sleep, and it’s not an argument that Maggie is going to win. Not with his daughter half on the edge of hysteria and his wife in a fucking hospital bed. He’s not going to take a goddamn nap while his world is still falling apart.

“If you guys can handle Charlie, I’m going back to the hospital,” Will’s voice is firm, and he can see the moment that Maggie relents, biting her lip to stop from arguing.

“Where is Charlie?” Jim asks, glancing around the empty living room.

"She’s in her room, let me just go tell her I’m leaving.” Will knows the moment that he mentions he’s leaving, Charlie is going to continue her campaign to come with him.

"But I want to see Mommy,” she keeps repeating; her little face is solemn and insistent and he has to continue to remind himself that taking her to see MacKenzie like this is a Very Bad Idea.

"I’m going to go now, honey,” Will says stepping into Charlie’s bedroom. “Aunt Maggie and Uncle Jim are here, okay?”

“I want to come with you,” Charlotte tells him.

“I know, and I’ll bring you as soon as they tell me I’m allowed, okay? For now, you have to stay here with Aunt Maggie and Uncle Jim. They brought you new games to play with.” Even as he says the words, he realizes how hollow they sound. Sorry you can’t see your mother, kid, but look! Games. No wonder his daughter is looking at him, seriously unimpressed.

He feels guilty about leaving her. But he’s been home for a few hours, and he’s feeling the tug to get back to the hospital now that Charlie is calmer (and also fed and bathed. He usually leaves bath time up to MacKenzie, for very good reasons. He’s almost as wet as Charlotte by the end of it, his sweater goddamn soaked. He doesn’t think she’s quite as clean as Mac usually gets her, but he’s done a serviceable job. Food is usually his domain anyway, and Charlie helps him make some pancakes after her bath. Enough, she insists, to feed her grandparents and Mommy, which makes Will ache. In the end, they make enough to feed a small army, but Charlie is giggling as they pour the batter and Will finds he can’t bring himself to give two shits that they’re going to throw most of it away).

He manages to get out of the apartment without too much drama, Maggie swooping in at the right moment to get him out the door, and when he gets back to the hospital, Sloan is in the waiting room and she looks unsurprised to see him back there.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” she says, bluntly, pointing a wagging finger in his direction. Will ignores her.

"Any news?” Sloan softens immediately, shaking her head.

"Her mom’s back there now with her,” she reports. He nods, sinking into the chair next to her.

“I’ll kick her out in a minute,” he says, and he feels so tired all of a sudden. Charlie’s taken care of, Mac’s taken care of, and he’s just so fucking tired. He tips his head back against the cool wall and closes his eyes, just for a moment, he tells himself, and is fast asleep within seconds.

* * *

Hours later, he's sitting by Mac's bedside. His neck hurts from where he slept sitting up, but when he yelled at Sloan for not waking him, she just rolled her eyes.

"You needed to sleep. I didn't give a fuck if that sleeping was done in a chair or not," she said, seemingly unaffected by his huffs and glaring.

Now, he's back by Mac, her hand in his, willing her to open her eyes, something the doctors assure him should happen at any moment. He hopes that moment is soon, because he doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

He sighs, running a hand over his face when he hears a raspy voice.

"Will?" His eyes fly to meet Mac's, relief so strong that he feels faint. She blinks at him, confused, and then he sees panic flit across her face. "Charlotte? The accident, is Charlie okay?"

"She's fine, sweetheart, she's fine," he soothes, running a hand gently through her hair. "She's at home with Maggie and Jim."

"She was so scared," Mac's voice is soft. "She's okay? You swear she's okay?"

"I swear she's okay," he assures her, bringing her hand to his mouth to brush a kiss along her knuckles. “She’s antsy to see you, but she’s _okay_. It’s you that we’ve been worried about. How are you feeling?” Mac closes her eyes briefly, the panic finally receding, and sighs.

"Awful,” she admits, wincing a bit as she shifts.

"Don’t move,” he warns. “You’ve got a broken collarbone and a broken leg. You probably should stay still. You scared the ever loving shit out of me, MacKenzie.” Her eyes pop open and narrow.

“It was no fucking picnic for me either,” she replies, and he can’t help it, laughter bubbles up inside of him and spills out. He’s so goddamn relieved that she’s awake, that she’s relatively okay, that she’s able to give him shit still. Will leans forward and kisses her.

“I’m going to go get a doctor, okay? And there’s a waiting room full of people who are pretty anxious,” he tells her, and as he moves away, she grabs his hand.

“I want to call Charlotte,” she says, firmly. “Before you do any of that. I want to call Charlie and talk to her.” Will can’t tell her no, _won’t_ tell her no, and he slides his phone out of his pocket and dials their home number. Jim answers on the second ring.

“Hey Jim, can you put Charlie on the phone for a second?” Will asks, and Jim complies, calling out for Charlotte that her dad’s on the phone, and there’s some muffled sounds as the phone is passed and then Charlie chirps,

"Hi Daddy!” And Will looks over at his wife, whose eyes are already suspiciously wet.

"Hi pumpkin, listen, there’s someone who wants to say hello,” he swallows hard as he holds the phone to Mac’s ear for her.

“Charlotte? Honey? It’s Mommy,” Mac says, and Will can hear Charlie’s shrieks.

“It’s Mommy! It’s _Mommy_!” He’s so goddamn happy in that moment, a wide smile that must mirror his own spreading across Mac’s face.

"Hi sweetheart,” Mac murmurs. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay? I promise.”


	6. And morning is a long way down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't forgotten about this! I hadn't!

"Now remember sweetheart, we have to be gentle with Mommy," Will reminds his daughter as they make their way through the hospital to Mac's private room.

Charlie nods solemnly, her grip on Will's hand tightening the closer they get to the room. Charlie's apprehension disappears the moment she sees Mac, her eyes lighting up.

"Hello, darling," Mac says softly when they step into the room. Charlotte breaks away from Will, hurtling towards the bed and skidding to a stop when she remembers her father's warning.

"Mommy," she breathes.

"Will," Mac's eyes leave her daughter and turn to her husband."Lift her up?"

"Mac," he starts. "Is that a good idea? I don't want you to get..."

"Will," Mac's voice is hard and leaves little room for argument. "Lift. Her. Up." Deciding against arguing, Will does as he is told, scooping Charlie up and gently depositing her on Mac's bed. Charlie lays down immediately, burrowing into Mac's side. Mac adjusts herself, moving her arm to tuck around the little girl.

"I've missed you so much," Mac murmurs, running a hand down Charlotte's small back. It's hard to move with a broken collarbone, but she's more worried about reassuring Charlie that she's there, that she's okay. She’ll worry about the pain later. She wants to start to erase those terrifying moments after the accident from her daughter's memory.

Will hasn't asked yet, about the accident, but Mac can tell he wants to. Wants to hear the details, as awful as they are. He's too concerned about her physically at the moment to focus on anything but that, but she knows his questions about that night will come. (What she doesn't know is how to explain how awful it was, the pain, but, worse, how she could hear Charlotte screaming for her. How she fought to keep her voice calm, and how fucking scared she was. She was so fucking scared. For her and for Charlie. How it was only after her father arrived, breathless and panicked, that she let herself start to drift away, but how hard she fought against the blackness that crept into her vision. _No_ , she kept thinking, _no. Will. Charlotte. No. I_ _have too much to live for. No, no, no_.)

"Tell me what I've missed, honey," Mac requests, and immediately Charlie starts chattering. Mac lets the sound of her daughter's voice, the rise and fall of the words, wash over her. She feels Will's hand slide into hers, and she catches his eye over Charlie's head and gives him a soft smile.

* * *

It's terrible, watching MacKenzie struggle once she's home.

She's in pain, but true to her usual stubborn form, she's refusing to take the heavy duty painkillers they've prescribed her.

She spends as much time with Charlie as possible, biting her lip to stop from crying out when Charlotte forgets the repeated warnings to be gentle and throws her little body at Mac, used to her mother catching her.

He goes back to work once Mac is at home and settled, and he comes home to find Charlie in bed next to MacKenzie. Charlotte is fast asleep, curled up next to her mother, but Mac is awake, ready with a list of things that he did wrong in that evening’s broadcast. It’s killing her to be away from work, he knows, and it reminds him of the first few months after Charlie was born when Mac would greet him with a litany of things to do differently the next night from their bed as soon as he stepped into the bedroom.

He trails a light hand over Charlie’s back, and leans down to give his wife a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs out of his jacket.

"I’ve been better,” she admits.

“She been in here all night?” Will asks, but he knows the answer. Charlotte has not strayed more than a few feet from his wife’s side since Mac got home. Will has watched her watching Mac, following her mother’s movement (as slow and painful as those movements may be), and glancing up every so often as she’s playing to make sure Mac is still there. (And he’s not sure how long that will last, Charlie clinging to Mac, and it’s understandable, but he hopes it isn’t permanent. He’d hate to think of Charlotte constantly afraid of closing her eyes and having her mother disappear.)

“What do you think?” Mac asks, but her voice is amused.

"I’ll put her to bed,” Will says, carefully picking Charlotte up without waking her. She barely stirs as he lays her in her own bed, and he drops a kiss to her temple before retreating back to his own bedroom.

“Do you think she should talk to someone about what happened?” MacKenzie asks as he changes into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t know how to answer at first, so he takes his time changing and then sighs as he slides into bed.

“Probably? I don’t know. Fuck, she’s only four,” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Do _you_ want to talk about that night?” Mac asks gently. He stiffens, and his initial instinct is no.

It’s going to be brutal, he knows, hearing about it. What little he knows is awful enough.

"Do you?” Will asks. Mac bites her lip and starts to shake her head, but then stops, and nods slightly. There’s a long pause while she gathers her words, and he doesn’t push.

"I keep thinking about it, that night, and maybe, I don’t know, maybe if I talk about it, maybe if it lives somewhere outside of my head…” Mac shrugs, and Will moves closer to her, hyper aware of her broken bones and bruises.

“If you need to talk about it, if you...I can listen,” he says. Fuck. Listening is the goddamn least he can do (he still feels guilt, hot, crushing guilt, that he wasn’t there. And he knows that’s irrational. He was at work, and what could he have possibly done if he had been there? It’s irrational, but it haunts him. He’ll do whatever, _whatever_ , he needs to in order to help MacKenzie and Charlotte get over this).

“It was terrifying,” she says finally. “The accident happened so fast, and Charlie was crying. I hurt, I hurt all over, but Charlie was crying and I tried to move to get to her, but it hurt too much.” Will makes a choked noise and drops his head down, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead on her shoulder, careful not to hurt her. “Our cab driver kept asking us, ‘are you okay? Jesus, are you okay?’” Mac shakes her head. “And I kept saying, ‘Charlie? Are you hurt? Charlie? What hurts?’ And she kept screaming and screaming.”

She can't really move, not with her broken collarbone and Will's body weight pressed down on hers, so he feels wetness on the top of his head from where her tears slide off her face.

"Jesus," he breathes. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't be, you wouldn't have been able to stop it," she admonishes. "You were at work. It was...bad fucking luck. It was awful. But it wasn't anyone's fault, least of all yours." She's quiet for a moment, her hand carefully reaching for Will's, and he sits up, reaching over to brush a piece of hair off of her face and feeling a wave of crushing gratitude that she's okay. That he doesn't have to do this, any of it, without her.

"I've never been so happy to see my dad. He ran, I think, he must have run."

"He did," Will softly confirms. She gives a little nod.

"I thought as much. He was out of breath and he spotted Charlie first and picked her up and tried to calm her down. I don't...I don't really remember much after that." He gives her hand a squeeze.

"You had to have been in so much pain," his voice cracks.

"You know," she muses. "I mostly remember the panic about Charlotte. I was so worried about her. God, Will, I've never heard her like that." She shudders, and Will knows that he never wants to hear his daughter like _that_. That's something he can live without, thank you very much.

"Thank God you're okay, thank God," he murmurs, taking her face gently in his hands and brushing the lightest of kisses onto her lips. "Thank God."


	7. But I don't care about the night time or the light that is gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm close to wrapping this one up (mostly because I'm an idiot who decided to have several WIPs), so thank you for reading! If I could, I'd give each of you a high five.

The hardest thing to deal with in the aftermath ends up being Mac returning to work.

She's physically at least a little better, her leg in a cast, her collarbone healing, but she's itching to return to the control room.

"I need some normalcy, and so does Charlotte," she insisted, and Will couldn't argue with that. Not with the way that Charlotte was still clinging to MacKenzie, with both of her parents at an absolute loss as to how to help her.

It was heartbreaking, actually, the way that Charlie wouldn't let Mac even leave the room without running after her, a panicked look on her little face.

"Where are you going, Mommy?" Mac would stop, frame Charlotte's face in her hands, press a small kiss to the tip of her nose.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," Mac assured her over and over. "I'm not leaving the apartment. I'm right here, okay?"

Will was starting to get concerned that the worry lines in Charlie's face were going to be etched there permanently.

"She needs to talk to someone, right? She should talk to someone? Talking to someone might help," he said again and again to Mac after he had scooped Charlotte up to deposit her back in her own bed.

"Says the man who spent a small fortune on a therapist that he never went to see," Mac replied.

"I want better for her," he'd huff, and Mac would run her hand down his cheek and lean in to press a kiss there.

"I know sweetheart, I know."

They knew it was going to be hard, Mac going back to work, and they tried to ease Charlotte into it by leaving her behind for small increments at a time.

Maggie and Jim came over to watch Charlotte as Will took Mac to her doctor's appointment, and Charlotte had thrown an absolute fit when she found out that she was staying back at the apartment while her parents left. Will could see MacKenzie wavering as Charlie threw her tiny body onto the floor, kicking her legs and screaming as if someone was hurting her.

"No, Mommy, no! Don't go!"

"We'll be back, darling. Please, Charlotte, don't be upset, we'll be back," Mac tried to say, and Will had finally had to just put his arm around his wife and usher her out of the apartment. Mac began to weep as soon as the elevator doors had closed behind them, and Will was pretty damn close to losing it himself. Hearing Charlotte like that had nearly unraveled him, and he carefully pulled Mac to him and tried to calm her as best he could.

When they arrived back, Jim and Maggie looked close to losing it themselves. Charlie's cries had reduced to hiccups, but she was still visibly upset, and threw herself at her mother the minute Will and Mac stepped through the door.

The next couple of times hadn't gone much better, and Mac even suggested letting Charlie spend the first couple days in the office with them.

"You were the one who pointed out that what Charlotte needs is a return to normalcy," Will sighed.

"I know, but," Mac's voice trailed off as she lightly traced the tear tracks on Charlie's face with her fingertip. Charlie had curled up in Mac's lap and fallen asleep there, worn out from all the crying.

"I'll call Habib," Will finally said, running a frustrated hand over his face. "See if he can recommend anyone. Christ. She's only four."

"I'd give anything," Mac started to say, her voice breaking. "For her to..."

"I know, hon," Will kissed her, before dropping a kiss to his sleeping daughter's head. "It'll be okay. She's _your_ daughter, which means she's stubborn and resilient." Mac let out a slightly watery laugh.

"You're sounding suspiciously optimistic there, Billy," she teased.

"I don't know if you remember, but I've been known to take on the job of Director of Morale and done a hell of a job," he shot back. "She'll be okay, Mac. We'll be okay."

* * *

It didn't feel okay two days later when Will and Mac went to drop off Charlie at preschool and their daughter was having none of it, her face bright red as she clung to first MacKenzie, and then Will, with a fierce determination.

Will was sympathetic, but stood firm, insisting that Charlotte stay.

"We'll pick you up in three hours, okay, sweetheart?" Will told his little girl.

"Let me come with you! I'll be good!" Charlotte wailed, and Will heard his wife take in a sharp breath behind him.

"Three hours, Charlie," Will repeated. "You'll have so much fun here with Ms. Julie." He glanced up to meet the eye of Charlie's teacher, who swooped in to pick up the little girl, hoisting her onto her hip and telling Charlotte in a gentle voice,

"Mommy and Daddy have to go to work, Charlie, say goodbye, okay? You'll see them really soon." Will helped Mac back out to the car, and once they were inside Mac let out a long sigh.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed. Will closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the leather seat.

"That was..." he started.

"Awful," Mac filled in. "Absolutely fucking awful." She began to laugh, and Will could hear the hysteria in her voice, and then she broke, her hands flying to her face as she cried. "Shit. Just. Shit."

Three hours later, to the minute, Will was standing back in the doorway to Charlie's preschool. Mac had stayed back at the office, dictating from Will's couch, her leg propped up on a stack of pillows. Charlotte spotted Will immediately, and she came tearing over and Will picked her right up, her tiny arms going around his neck in a death grip.

"Can we leave now? Can we go find Mommy?" Charlotte asked. "I don't want to come back tomorrow, Daddy. I'll just come to work with you and Mommy."

"Charlie, honey, you love school," Will reminded as he strapped her into her booster seat.

"No, I don't," Charlie glared at him defiantly. The look was reminiscent of her mother. He had seen that look before. He was more than familiar with that look.

Will had only been a father for four short years, but he knew to choose his battles carefully. He didn't argue with her, deciding that it would be better if he and Mac presented a united front on the issue.

He carried Charlotte into the office, and her face lit up when she spotted Mac.

"How was school, darling?" Mac asked.

"I'm not going to go anymore," Charlotte reported. "Daddy said it was okay." Mac's eyes flew up to meet her husband's in surprise, and he shook his head.

"Charlotte, you have to go to school," Will said gently, squatting down to look her in the eye.

"Nope," Charlotte tilted her head and gave him a smile. MacKenzie's smile. Oh Christ. He was not strong enough for this.

"Darling," Mac said. "You have to go to school. This is nonnegotiable." Instantly, Charlotte's face crumbled and she dissolved into tears. Will gathered her in his arms, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as she sobbed into his chest.

"I know," Will soothed, and sat down, Charlie still curled around him, in the chair closest to Mac. "Mommy and I know you're scared, but Mommy's okay, pumpkin."

Mac reached a hand and placed it on her daughter's back, and Charlotte turned to her and crawled from Will's lap into MacKenzie's. Will went to stop her, afraid she would hurt Mac's still healing body, but Mac quickly waved his concerns away. She wrapped Charlie up in a fierce hug, her arms wrapped as tightly around her as she could, ignoring the twinge of pain.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. I'm okay," Mac repeated, hoping she could make Charlotte believe it.


	8. If you'll just hold me until dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. Thanks for sticking with me! And I decided, after how cruelly I started this fic, I'd end it on a happy note.

Will was woken by a tiny voice insistent in his ear.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, wake up,” followed by tiny fingers prodding at his face. “Momma made you breakfast and I _helped_.” He blinked open his eyes to find his four-year-old beaming at him from next to the bed. He reached over and hauled her up and she sat herself down squarely on his chest.

“Ooof,” he breathed out.

“Mommy made breakfast?” Will questioned. “Is it safe to eat?” Charlotte giggled conspiratorially.

“I heard that,” Mac called from the bedroom door as she carried in a tray. “Just for that I should let you starve.” Will sat up, holding onto Charlotte so she didn’t topple off as he righted himself.

“Kidding?” He offered up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mac rolled her eyes, placing the tray on the nightstand and leaning down to give him a kiss. “Happy Father’s Day, Billy.”

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” Charlie exclaimed, loudly. Will fought back a wince at the decibel level of her voice. He adored his daughter. Would die for her without a second thought. But she was _loud_. Especially before he had his morning coffee. “We got you presents!”

“Why don’t you go get them for Daddy, darling?” Mac requested, and Charlie climbed down off of the bed and took off for her bedroom as fast as her little legs could carry her. Mac settled herself down next to Will, who reached across her to snag a piece of bacon. Mac swatted his hand away.

“Hey! I thought that was my breakfast!” Will cried.

“You can wait for your daughter,” Mac admonished.

“Can I at least have my coffee?” Will asked, and Mac sighed, but handed over his mug of coffee, which he took gratefully. Charlie came tumbling back in the room, her arms full and dumped the presents on the bed to climb up over her parents. She dropped down into Mac’s lap, and looked expectantly at Will.

“Open mine first, Daddy,” she instructed handing him over a present with an abundance of bows stuck to it. Will noticed that a lot of tape had been used to hold it together. Possibly even a whole roll. He wisely kept that observation to himself.  

“Did you wrap this yourself, baby?” He asked, and Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. It took Will some time to work through the tape, but he held back asking for scissors (or, to be honest, a machete. The levels of security on this present made those stupid fucking packages that they sealed Charlie’s toys in look like a breeze. There were so many nuisances that Will was learning about now that he was a parent that had never been anywhere near his radar. The fact that new toys were harder to break into than Fort Knox was pretty close to the top of his list).

“Uh-huh. And I made the present too. In pre-K!” Charlie told him, leaning back against Mac, who dropped a kiss into her daughter’s unruly hair. He finally freed the present, a mold of Charlotte’s tiny hands and grinned at her.

“It’s beautiful, Charlie,” he told her seriously leaning over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

“Will you hang it in your office?” Charlie asked.

“I sure will, honey,” he assured her. Charlie gave a satisfied nod.

“Momma got you a present too,” she told him, reaching over to hand him another box.  The wrapping on this one was a little more subdued, way less tape involved. It was small too. Long and rectangular, a watch? Maybe? He had a watch already, it had been Charlie Skinner's, and he knew that Mac was aware of what Charlie's watch meant to him.

He slid his finger under the tape and opened the box, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes flew up to meet his wife's.

"I usually hate to be a cliche," she answered with a small shrug, but her eyes were glistening. Will leaned forward and crushed her lips to his, tangling a hand in her hair.

"Whatcha get, Daddy?" Charlotte's voice asked, reminding Will that they were in the presence of their very impressionable daughter. Will leaned his forehead against Mac's for a moment while he composed himself. Charlie was trying to peer into the small box, a puzzled look on her little face.

“Oh, boring grown up stuff,” Mac cleared her throat and swept her daughter into her arms. “I think Daddy likes it, though.” She grinned at Will, and he mirrored her wide smile back.

“You like my present better, right, Daddy?” Charlotte narrowed her eyes at her father, giving him a look that was frighteningly reminiscent of her mother. Mac chuckled, burying her nose in Charlie’s hair.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Will reassured. Charlie nodded, satisfied. “Now, we should eat. You and Mommy worked so hard on this breakfast.” It was Mac’s turn to nod, grabbing a piece of bacon, and Will grinned at her. He didn’t think he could stop grinning. Not when Charlotte somehow managed to get maple syrup all over the bedspread, not when she smeared her greasy fingers on his pillow, not even when she knocked over his coffee, spilling the hot liquid all over his lap. That grin was permanently fixed to his face.

It was after the coffee that Mac finally shooed Charlie off the bed, bribing the little girl with cartoons. As the first sounds of _Sofia the First_ float in from the living room, MacKenzie reappeared, sliding onto the bed and fitting herself against his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she sighed contentedly and twined their fingers together.

“You ready to do this again?” Mac asked, bringing their joined hands to her stomach.

“The first one turned out pretty good,” he replied. Mac gave a light laugh, turning to rest her forehead against his shoulder. They were quiet for a moment, listening to Charlotte giggle at something on television and Will could feel, rather than see, Mac’s smile. It was contagious, and he was grinning like an idiot once again.

“When did you find out?” He asked softly.

“Yesterday morning,” Mac answered. “I had suspected for a few days, though.” Will hadn’t, and part of him wondered how he had missed it, and the other part of him recognized that they had been far too busy for him to notice anything lately.  It had been a crazy few days at work, and they had tried to balance being at home with Charlotte while pulling long days at the office. Unfortunately, that meant one staying at home while the other put out fires in the office, and then switching. He had barely laid eyes on Mac in the past 72 hours while they were both awake, and had crawled into bed in the very early hours of the morning, every part of him exhausted, asleep as soon as he had curled up behind his wife and closed his eyes.

Mac was finally feeling better.  The casts had come off, and Will had celebrated her recovery by sending Charlotte to Jim and Maggie’s, and spending the whole night worshipping her newly healed body. As for Charlotte, she had finally stopped tracking MacKenzie’s every move when she was in sight, and panicking when Mac wasn’t in sight. It had taken time. Time and more than a few sessions with a therapist that Habib had recommended for Charlotte. The accident had left its scars, both physical and emotional, but Will was finally starting to think that they had come through the worst. Mac was okay. Charlotte was okay. They were all _okay_.

And now they were going to have another baby.

He felt overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“You’re happy, right?” Mac asked in a quiet voice, and he dropped a kiss into her hair. “This is good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed. Happy didn’t _even_...it wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t the word he would use. It didn’t cover how he was feeling. He had almost lost both Mac and Charlie a few months ago. He had almost lost _everything_. There had been long, awful moments when he thought that he would have to figure out how to survive without MacKenzie. How to raise Charlotte by himself.

To go from that paralyzing fear to _this_?

He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted it up to press a searing kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” he told her. “This is amazing. It’s...God, Mac, I _can’t_ …”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes wet and her mouth quirking up into a smile.

“Momma!” Charlotte called from the living room.

“Duty calls,” she said, moving away from him.

“I can go,” he offered, starting to get up.

“It’s Father’s Day,” she shot back, pushing him back down. “Which means I get to deal with the progeny while you get to sleep a little longer. I’m aware of what time you got home last night.” She leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “Happy Father’s Day, Billy.” She kissed him one last time, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and disappeared out of the room. A second later he can hear the rising and falling of their voices, the sounds and the rhythms are soothing, and he slides back down under the covers and closes his eyes.

Best Father’s Day ever, he thinks as he drifts back off to sleep.


End file.
